Hostage
by bobcorby
Summary: Season 9, Conviction - AU. Boyd is in trouble. Please read!
1. Chapter 1

**Hostage.**

He had been disorientated at first, when they had grabbed him. With his hands juggling his lunch box and phone, his attention on the information Sarah was giving him, he had been preoccupied. Off guard. He wasn't paying attention. It was stupid, really. He was getting closer and closer to closing the case, and with that, exposing a cover up. They - who - he really wasn't sure, had already covered up the death of one man. Why wasn't he expecting this? He, and his whole team, in the eyes of the counter terrorist unit, and other government officials, were expendable. Collateral damage. And right now, they, whoever the hell they were, had just bundled him into a car and restrained his hands behind his back in a ridiculously tight manner, gagged him, and after a slight struggle bagged him too. Boyd tried not to panic, as a thought hit him: was he now a non person?

Who had him? Where were they taking him? What did they want? The questions fired through his mind in quick succession. He had many theories, but no solid answers. He could feel the car driving fast, taking sharp corners and covering bumpy terrain. He thought back to his ambush - there were at least 5 of them, a driver, the two who ambushed him on the street and another two in the back, waiting for him with the strip ties. The plastic cut into his wrists painfully tight, reminding him of their work. Whoever they were they were professional and organised and right now he was at their complete mercy.

***WTD*WTD*WTD***

Sarah was pacing, phone in her hand as she scaled the office floor, hoping Boyd would ring back at any moment. She felt guilty. It was irrational, but she had been the one talking to Boyd when he was taken. Spence was trying to convince the team that everything was okay, that Boyd was off on one, having an episode; he'd turn up in an hour or two with a lead, or a temper, he claimed. Grace was worried. She hugged her arms to he chest and frowned, every so often sighing and shaking her head. Eve was neutral, offering no suggestions, no theories, no counter arguments or words of support. Just their, waiting to be given an instruction, waiting to act. Sarah needed them to act.

"You don't understand. Boyd asked me to seek out my contacts on this. I did so, and they lied to me. Why did they lie? I hate to say this, but if they were involved in a cover up, they could be involved in this. And if they are, Boyd's in trouble."

"Boyd hung up on you!" Spence was incredulous. "He's frustrated and he hung up on you! That's all there is to it. And when he waltzes in, in maybe an hours, two hours time, he'll be angry we wasted time and resources on him instead of the case, the case we're still running in circles around instead of breaking!"

"You didn't hear him. He was cut off. I heard a struggle. I heard a vehicle… I don't know, tyres squealing, as though somebody was speeding away. And then his phone went dead. And now its on answer machine. Something is wrong."

"This could be nothing," Grace sighed.

"He could have ran out of charge!" Spence cut in, throwing his hands in the air.

"I'm sorry Spence but I'm not willing to take that risk." Grace looked serious, ready for a fight, but at the same time, tired - she really was worried. Spence nodded his head in surrender.

"Okay," he nodded. "What do you want us to do?"

"Can we trace his phone?"

Eve finally piped up. "I've already set up a signal triangulation scan. The phone's off, which means theirs no signal, but if that changes I'll get an alert and a location ASAP."

"Thanks Eve. Spence, should we bring in back up, report this as an officer kidnapping?"

"No!" Sarah cut in, almost skidding on the floor in her heels. "No involvement other than us."

"You just convinced us these people, these dangerous people, have taken Boyd, but you don't want to bring in back-up?" Spence was readying himself for another argument.

"We don't even know who these people are. Are they counter terrorist, are they hired guns, government backed, are they even UK officials? We can not trust outsiders. This has to stay below the radar."

Grace rubbed at her eyes. "Then what else can we do?"

Sarah shrugged. "I'm going to walk the location we found his car at. Maybe I can find something there? A lead, a clue."

"That's a long shot!"

"It's something," Sarah called over her shoulder as she headed out of the room.

Spence gently tapped Grace on the shoulder, hoping the gesture would bring comfort. "I'm going to start trawling though CCTV footage. Care to join me?"

Grace nodded, pulling her cardigan around her tightly as she followed Spence into his office.

"We have to find him Spencer."

"I know," he muttered, "we will."

***WTD*WTD*WTD***

After the blow to each of his shoulder blades with the baton, Boyd heard the weapon clatter to the floor. He felt some relief, and sucked in a deep breath whilst trying to hide the pain the hits had caused. But the relief was short lived as his attacker moved to face him and pulled his leather gloves off. They hit the floor and seconds later the still balaclava masked 'John' delivered a breathtaking punch to the face that nearly toppled Boyd to the floor. Boyd closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying to stop the sickly spinning sensation that was swirling through his focus.

John nodded and another masked man pushed the chair over, sending it, and Boyd who was tied to it, onto the cold floor. Boyd shuddered again, feeling his arm jar from the weight of his body as it crushed it against the floor. Is this it, he wondered, gaining his focus as he looked down at the gritty floor, is this a stunt to scare me off, is this over now?

John could almost read Boyd's thoughts and laughed out loud as he circled the restrained man. "I know what you're thinking, and boy, are you wrong." With great satisfaction he stepped over and kicked his boot into Boyd's unprotected stomach, feeling the steel cap of his boots hit the mans midsection, he grunted with the force as Boyd roared in pain, and then gasped for breath, winded from the kick. "That, my friend, was for the head butt. Now, back to business. Chris, get him up."

Body looked around disorientated as a man appeared, almost invisible from the dark shadows of the warehouse and up righted his chair with ease. Body hung his head and continued his fight for breath. Feeling stronger, he asked, "what the hell do you want from me?" John shook his head and smiled, as though entertaining a naughty child who was disrupting the classroom. "You're not in charge here Boyd, you don't get to ask the q-"

"So is it to scare me off, or is it, is it to distract my team, or I don't know, maybe you want me to help you-"

Boyd stopped and braced himself as he saw John's fist coming back at him. Fast. Heavy. At the last minute he noticed something gold, or was it silver, glistening in his hand, and then the fist reached its target, snapping Boyd's head back with such force that it sent the chair toppling over, again, onto its back; its occupant, unconscious, with a gaping gash slashing open the quickly bruising skin covering the left cheekbone.

John knelt down next to his victim and gave a rough tug of his hair, sceptical Boyd was feigning unconsciousness. Once certain he was out, he quickly pulled Boyd's phone from his pocket, switched it on and took a picture of the beaten detective. He took a look at the quality of his photo and nodded, satisfied. "Chris," he yelled, "wake him up."

Chris stepped out of the shadows once more. "How?"

"A bucket of water? For f**ks sake get on with it, just wake him up now! We're not finished yet."

Mark watched Chris scuttle away and nodded towards the phone. "What's that for? I thought we were told to keep it off, in case they track it."

"It's only been on for a minute, they can't do anything with that. Besides, this will work as a distraction, easier than killing him or his team. My orders were to get them off the case, and by taking him, I'm sure the rest will be too lost to function. This is just to keep them off focus, worried about him." John rubbed his hands together to try and warm them up. "I don't know about you but this is going to be easier than killing a DSI, even if the entire force hates him."

Mark laughed. "Fine, send the photo. We'll wait a few hours, see how their investigation goes after this. Without him it will be easier to shut them down anyway."

Chris came back with a rusted bucket of water, full to the top, water sloshed over the edges as he rushed over with it. "We've got a couple of hours to wait ourselves," John said, seeing the enquiring look on Mark, his partners face, "I don't see why I can't enjoy them."

"Just be careful."

"I will. But it doesn't matter what I do, Tristan will make sure nothing happens. Well, as long as he isn't dead. Soon we'll offer a trade, him for all of their information, with the threat of murder, should they ever try to chase this up in the future. Piece of cake! Now, I've got a blinding headache and a split nose he needs to pay for, besides the shit storm his investigation has kicked up for us."

Mark nodded. "I'm going to make some calls. Just remember to keep him alive." As he turned away he heard his friends manic laughter time with the splash of the water and the coughs and gasps from the old man as he was brought too.

***WTD*WTD*WTD***

_Hi! Have not wrote anything in a while but the new season has my imagination running wild! _

_Hope you like this, please let me know what you think!_


	2. Chapter 2

***WTD*WTD*WTD***

Grace watched Spence as he worked through the computer logs. He was searching the surveillance cameras located around the area where Boyd's car was found. So far, Sarah's search of the scene had given them nothing. Her phone beeped and she shuffled through her bag for it, trying not to get her hopes up that it was Boyd. Finding it she unlocked the keypad and smiled with relief, holding her phone in the air like a trophy.

"It's him Spence, Boyd's sent me a text!"

Spence looked suspicious. "Since when does Boyd text?"

"Oh, I don't know," Grace said, feeling happiness and relief rush over her, "anyway, it's a picture message, it says. Lets just have a look see…"

Grace gasped in shock and dropped the phone to the floor with a clatter. Spence picked it up, worried about what had caused this reaction. "Are you okay?"

Grace nodded rapidly and reached out for the phone, snatching it from him before he had a chance to look, making sure the image on her phone was really what she thought she had seen the first time. She stared at the screen and tears welled into her eyes. "Oh Spence," she gasped as she passed him the phone, "he is in trouble. Just… just look at him…" As Spence viewed the phone she quickly wiped her sleeves across her eyes, drying away the tears, steeling herself for what this meant.

Spence rested a hand on her shoulder as he shook the phone in his hand. "It's okay. Maybe Eve can do something with this." Grace shakily sat back down before the computer, unable to rid the picture from her mind, the image of Boyd, tied up, unconscious, and clearly hurt. From the looks of the photograph, quite badly. "What is going on?" She asked, and Spence could only shrug. "Maybe this is supposed to scare us off?"

"Yes, but kidnapping, imprisoning and assaulting an officer of his rank? They know the consequences of actions like this, it seems so, so reckless."

"Not if they were given the go ahead by the authorities?"

"But it still doesn't tally right, not for me. The only way they could get away with it, government backed or not, is… well, if they killed him. Hid his body. Plausible deniability. Just like they did before, in this case!"

"Calm down Grace," Spence said, his hand rubbing his face, knowing that Grace's theory was most probably correct. "We'll find him before it comes to that."

"I'm sorry Spence," she snapped, "that's not reassuring, given what they're doing to him, while we're trying to find him."

Spence cast another glance at the phone. "I know," he said, gritting his teeth, "I know."

***WTD*WTD*WTD***

Boyd was laid on the floor again, still tied to the chair. He didn't know how many hours had passed, but he was sure this wasn't the first time he had been knocked back over since they had woken him with the water. His hands felt numb. His chest hurt and he could only breath in shallow gasps. One eye was swelling up rapidly and as he probed his tongue around his mouth he realised he was missing one of his back teeth. He couldn't remember the hit from that one, but he was finding it so difficult to focus on anything through the pain that he wasn't surprised.

John had taken his balaclava off. Boyd wondered if this meant they were going to kill him. Either that, or they were over confident in their abilities to scare him off. One of the masked men approached with pliers in his hand, Boyd tried to slow his breathing as he felt himself panic. He felt the man on his hands and began to plead. "No," he grunted, "No, NO!"

"Calm down Peter," John said mockingly, ruffling Boyd's hair as the other man continued. The plastic ties were cut, freeing Boyd's hands. "See, isn't that better?" John moved away, laughing again as Boyd tried to move his arms forward, to see his hands, but his joints were that stiff it was difficult. Finally completing the act he held onto his wrists, noticing the crusted blood, his swollen fingers.

"Now get up," John ordered. Wanting a reprieve from the violence Boyd stood, with some effort, pushing himself first onto his knees and then wobbly making a stand. He tried not to sway. Tried not to give these men the satisfaction of seeing the damage they had caused. "Mark! Lets go. Lights, camera, action!"

Boyd looked around confused, then realised that one of the masked men was holding a phone, videoing him. He felt his stomach churn. What was the purpose of this? John strolled forward and punched Boyd in the face, this time without the knuckle duster, and watched with satisfaction as he fell back onto the floor helplessly. "Get back up." Boyd tried to obey, only now noticing that his main attacker John had replaced his mask, hiding his identity from the camera. As Boyd slowly climbed to his feet Mark spoke into the phone. "This is a warning to you all."

Boyd was in a crouch, pushing himself up once more, but John kicked his foot out into his chest, sending him sprawling to the floor once more. "Get up," he ordered. Boyd gritted his teeth, used a swollen hand to wipe some of the blood from his eyes. He rolled onto his knees and pushed himself up into a standing position once more, using his anger and frustration to fuel his body. Mark continued into the camera.

"If you want Mr Boyd here to live, you will shut down your investigation immediately. If you want to see Mr Boyd again, you will bring all evidence to Colefield Warehouse, Unit 1, at 8.30 pm. If you involve any of the authorities outside of your unit, we will kill him. If you do not bring the evidence, we will kill him. If you make copies of your evidence, we will kill him. We are watching you. We will know if you do not comply with our demands."

John moved back into view of the camera. "Two hours?" he asked, tauntingly, "is that all the time I have left?" It was for the benefit of the cold case unit, Boyd knew, and he felt his anger boil. He wanted to charge the man, to hurt him. Instead he spat out a mouthful of blood in John's direction. John wiped at the blood on his shirt and shook his head dangerously at Boyd. "That was a mistake." He walked over and picked up the baton he had earlier used, and stroked it softly. "Two hours Boyd, two more hours of this."

Grace watched the video in horror as the man swung the baton at Boyd, hitting him round the side of the head, sending him to the floor. He lay still, unmoving other than his foot which twitched every so slightly. His shirt was un-tucked, his jacket torn and bloody. The last image the video showed was the man stood over Boyd, baton raised high in the air, ready to strike again. Then the screen went blank.

***WTD*WTD*WTD***

Spence clenched his fists as he watched the video, frustration and anger burning within him. Grace was unusually quiet. Eve again, remained the calm one. Sarah was on her way back to the office, her efforts at the scene were a waste, Spence wanted her here. Silence billowed in the room. Eve had already checked the trace she had set up for Boyd's phone, the signals used to send the picture and video were both of no use, the phone hadn't been switched on long enough to get a sufficient trail to trace.

"Okay," Eve said, breaking the silence. "We have to think this through, from all angels. Do we give them the evidence, shut the investigation down?"

Spence couldn't help but shake his head. "We have to get Boyd, make the trade," he said through gritted teeth, "but Boyd himself wouldn't want us to just give in and roll over."

Grace cut in, sounding genuinely hurt. "Spence, we have to do what they ask. If it were any one of us, Boyd would do it."

"I know, I'm not disputing that, but Boyd has his principles and he wouldn't want to give in."

"So what are you saying," Eve asked, "that we give them the evidence, but continue on?"

"No," Grace cut in, angrily. "They said they were watching us. We're taking no chances. For all we know they could be listening in now."

"That was probably a bluff."

"Really. Really! A bluff! And does that, that video, does that look like a bluff?"

Spence shook his head.

"No," Grace continued. "No. I'm not taking any chances, not when Peter's life is at stake. I won't risk it Spence, I wouldn't if it were either or you two, or Sarah, so no, not him either."

"Okay," Spence said softly, "For now, the investigation is closed. We give them the evidence, whatever we have, and we get Boyd back. For now, we think no further than that. Agreed?"

Grace and Eve both nodded. Sarah stormed in the room, out of breath. "Where are we? Let me see the video. Have you got the location up, for the trade, so we can plan our route out tactically? Spence I think I should make the trade, you should be on sniper, if there's any high ground-"

Spence held his hand up. "Whoa, slow down. One thing at a time. I've got logistical maps printed out, we'll discuss our entry and exit strategies. If we leave in," he glanced at his watch, "half an hour, then we can be early. I want to get there first."

"What if they're already there?" Eve asked.

"No, they wouldn't risk it." Spence was certain. "Not in case we got a track on the phone. They have to move him, get him there. I'm thinking, the sooner we get there, the better."

Sarah nodded. "What about their demands? I think we should comply."

"We are," Grace snapped, "we are. Give them all we've got. It's not like we have much, anyway. I just want him back."

"We all do."

Spence took Sarah to study the maps, knowing her experience would help. Eve went to gather the evidence, backup drives, and destroy anything that was left. Grace watched them all go and went to sit in her office. She drew the blinds, grateful they had not given her a task. She would be more of a hindrance than help, she knew. She watched the video on her phone again, watched the way Boyd struggled to stand, the pain he was in, the way they continued to hurt him, the way Boyd continued to antagonise them; she knew it was his way of fighting back, she just hope he didn't push them into pushing him too far.

***WTD*WTD*WTD***

_Hello! Is anybody reading this? If you are, please let me know! _

_I enjoy putting Boyd in peril, hope other people do too!_

_Please review, good or bad, to let me know if I should continue or not!_

_THANKS :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Here's the next part. Hope you like it!_

***WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD***

"Shit," Mark fumed, sweating under his mask. "For God's sake John, I told you not to go too far. Now look what you've done!" He pointed a finger at their captive as he spoke, who was laid on the floor, bleeding, bruised and still unconscious.

"He will wake up. Just give me another minute."

"You've splashed three buckets of water over his head and snapped smelling salts under his nose and nothing. Not even a slight stir, not a blink, nothing."

"Well we don't need him awake anyway!" John yelled, his panic that he had gone too far making him angry. "He's got a pulse, he's alive, they were the requirements!"

"Not if he's brain dead, or in a coma! That's more trouble than a bloody dead copper, a dead copped in a living body. Shit!"

John tried to calm himself down and make light of the situation. "Look," he explained "he's alive. Let's just get him to the other warehouse for the swap, and then wash our hands of him. I'm sure he'll be fine by then, and if he isn't, so what? All the more reason for them to co-operate."

Mark nodded his head. "Fine. You two," he nodded his head in the direction of two men waiting in the shadows, "get him in the car, quick."

Boyd stayed still, listening to the argument between the two men with interest. They thought he was out of it. That had been his plan, but he didn't know if he would succeed, feigning unconsciousness when they had slapped his cheeks, pulling at the swollen and tender skin, had been difficult. He had struggled not to cry out in pain, or at least flinch. But he had succeeded. He was out of it, they thought. Boyd knew this was his only chance at escape. He had to wait until the time was right and take off. Hopefully before they got him into the vehicle. How, he wasn't sure. But he had to get away. Find some way of contacting Spence, stopping them from making the trade. He wasn't going to lose this case and shut down the investigation. He would save the case, and his life too, he hoped.

Two men pulled at his arms, hoisting his weight up, an arm over each of their shoulders as they dragged him away. Continuing the act, that he was unconscious, was difficult. The arm he had landed on earlier burned from the strain. He could feel the water they had used in an attempt to wake him dripping from the hair on his face, some drops clinging to his wounds, others dribbling away, making the cuts itch. His shoes dragged along the floor, and after a moment the texture changed. Gone was the smooth concrete, replaced with bumpy, rough terrain. Gravel? Mud? They were outside, but Boyd didn't dare open his eyes. He felt his guards drop him and again fought not to bring his arms up to protect himself from the fall. But the freefall motion lasted only a moment and Boyd was relieved to land on something soft. It cushioned his fall. A door slammed shut behind him. Silence.

Am I in the van, he wondered? Lifting his eyelids ever so slowly, at least the one that complied, the other refused to open and was swollen firmly shut, Boyd peeked through his lashes, into the interior of the van. He could see nobody. He slowly flexed his hands, thankful they had not been retied. He tried to push himself up but the pain jarred in his ribs and he slid into the foot well below the backseat. He paused in fear that he had given his situation away, but again, no response, nothing - he was alone.

Glancing up out of the window he could see the warehouse, its doors open, light spilling out. People were moving around inside. Somebody was setting the chair - his torture chair - alight. Another was hosing his blood away. John, his main attacker, was stood to the side making a call, Boyd knew it was him from his ginger hair. Another man, closest to the car, smoked a cigarette through his balaclava. Boyd knew he had to act now.

He leant towards the front of the car hoping to find a phone but the car was empty. Bracing himself for the pain he would feel, he knew he had to make a run for it. Now. The sooner he left, the better an advantage he would have. "Go," he whispered to himself, one hand on the car door handle, the other bracing his ribs, preparing himself for the movement. "Go now," he whispered to himself, psyching himself up. He opened the door handle, pushed himself through the door and gently closed it shut behind himself with a gentle click. Crouching behind the car tyre he looked out, at the landscape before him.

He could see more factories and a road. That was all he could make out in the darkness. They were in some kind of industrial estate. Not sure where he should go, or which route would be best to take, Boyd took of running. He ran at a crouch straight ahead through the car park, towards the open metal gates which signified the exit to this particular unit's land. He ran at a slow crouch, one hand still braced again his side, the other pumping through the air, trying to increase his speed whilst maintaining both his low crouch and balance.

He made it to the gates. Looked both ways. More road and empty buildings on either side. Pitch darkness. Boyd hoped he could break into a warehouse, maybe some were operational, find a telephone and make the call to stop Spence. He decided to take a left, having no reason for choosing that direction instead of right. As he took off, he could see the first building in the distance, others close to it, clustered around it, all separated by wire meshing. Boyd ran, no longer crouching, just wanting speed, and the strength to make it to a phone.

After five hundred yards or so Boyd judged he was half way there. His legs were burning and he slowed to a fast walk. Everything ached. Blood was mixing with sweat, getting into his eyes, frustrating him. It was difficult to breath, he was back to short, painfully sharp gasps of air. His head throbbed with migraine like intensity, but he tried not to think about any of this, just concentrated on putting one foot before the other, ignoring the pain, the exhaustion and the fear of being caught again.

Reaching the first unit Boyd looked up at the building. It looked run down, but they all did. He considered pushing himself to reach the next unit, but then heard a sound that terrified him. A flare gun. The blast of light it sent off into the sky illuminated everything for a moment, before plunging his surroundings back into darkness. Boyd climbed through a hole in the fence, using his body weight to make the wire gap larger as he clawed at the mud on the ground to pull his way through it. Once inside he hobbled across to the empty lot and stared up at the building, looking for a way in, praying he could find some way of contacting the team. He had to act fast, he knew for he could hear the men's shouts. They were coming for him.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry for the delay with this. I am intending to finish this story, I've just had a very busy couple of weeks and struggled to find the time to write! Hope people are still reading. Thanks!_

Chapter 4.

Spence sped down the winding roads towards the industrial estate where the warehouse was located. Eve sat to the side, one had on the dashboard to brace herself as Spence sped over the bumps without slowing. Sarah had taken an alternative route and was on loud speaker. Grace was in the office. She wanted to come, but Spence didn't want to put her in any danger. Eve didn't want to come but Spence wanted her with him. She had more medical experience than him, but she would stay in the car until needed. She flinched as Spence took another sharp corner without slowing. In daylight this was dangerous driving, but in the pitch black of the night it was borderline reckless.

Sarah came in over the phone line, her voice sounded fuzzy on the speaker. "I'm here Spence. Setting off on foot. I should be about ten minutes out."

"Copy that." Spence replied. "We're on our way." Spence was coming in on the other side. There were too ways into the estate which held the cluster of buildings and warehouse units, it was Sarah's idea to come in from both sides. Spence didn't like the idea of splitting up at first, but had to admit, it made sense. "Okay" Spence said as he pulled into the entrance to the first building, which looked abandoned. He parked next to the brush, not wanting to place his car in any passer-by's spotlight, involved or not. "We're parked. In the entrance to unit one. This is the highest point, from here the road slopes down, so I'll scope the area out first, see if I see anything susp-"

He was cut off as a sharp bang echoed around the air, punctuated by a flash of bright pink reddish light. "What was that?" Sarah asked, "I can see something but I'm too far away to-"

"It's a flare," Eve cut in, "it's a flare gun."

"Something's wrong," Sarah panicked.

"No." Spence had an idea. "No." He paused. "All of these buildings. Sarah, what if Boyd is already here? They'd just have to move him from one building to another. Minimum risk. Total cover. They'd see us coming, too."

Eve nodded her head. "That would make sense."

"Then the flare," Sarah cut in over the line, "the flare shouldn't go off. They'd need total cover. If they're shooting a flare gun they need to get everyone's attention."

Excitement filtered through Spence's voice. "Something's gone wrong."

"Do you think Boyd's escaped?"

Sarah's sighed into the phone. "Then what do we do?"

Eve jumped in again. "Then we find him. Now!"

Spence held his scope back up to his eyes. He stood on the lower post of the fencing he was parked near. "Shit," he said. "I can see movement, far down the hill. Activity."

"I can't see anything," Sarah said.

"You're past the curve, they're covered in your direction. Unit…" he paused as he counted off the units. Eve stood close to his shoulder, looking too. "Unit 12," he said, "looks like a warehouse, doesn't look as decrepit as this place does. Maybe its operational? I can see figures, and light, and there's two vehicles."

"It has to be them!"

"Okay," Sarah tried to organised her thoughts. "If Boyd has escaped, he's not going to get far. We need to find him, before they do."

"Yes" Spence cut in. "We need to start as close to unit 12 as possible. I'll start from 11, you 13. Covert. Then move outwards. If these guys are their, stay hidden. If they get to him first, at least we still have an advantage, knowing that. We will get him back."

"Got it," Sarah said. "I'm heading off now. Keep your phone on silent. I'll call with an update in fifteen, if nothing happens before then. If we don't find him we still need to be at the meeting place on time, for all we know Boyd hasn't escaped and we're getting over excited."

"You're right, let's just see if we find him first. If not, one of us can go, the other keep searching." Spence ended the call and looked to Eve with a small smirk on his face.

"You still staying in the car?"

Eve shook her head and slung her backpack over her shoulders. "No way. But I want one of those vests you're wearing."

Spence smiled, glad of her support. "I'll even give you a gun too."

***WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD***

Boyd made his way through the ground floor of the warehouse. It was hard to see through the darkness. He thought he could make out old conveyer belts lining the walls, he held hold on to these as he moved, they helped to steady him, his knees felt like they were going to give in at any moment. He made slow progress. His lungs were still struggling to give him air, and this, combined with the pain from everything else, made him want to give up. To just lie down. To sleep. To rest. To hide. But he couldn't. He had to contact Spence, get the trade dropped. He couldn't lose the investigation, he had to close the case. Seeing nothing of use in terms of a computer or phone on the lower floor Boyd reached the stairs, and hoped that their would be an office or something on the upper level - anything to help him would do.

He grasped the rusted handrail and pulled himself up the first step. It was hard work. He was sweating and he could feel his body tremble from the effort. He looked up - at least another twenty steps to climb. His legs gave out and he sank to his knees, powerless against the action. He could head the sound of engines nearby the factory walls and knew he had to move. Fear and determination pushing him on, he climbed the steps on his hands and knees, looking only at each step as he slowly passed it, not the finish line, which seemed so far away.

Reaching the top he rolled onto his back and panted for breath, almost allowing a smile of relief, for he had managed the task. The rest break did not last for long, he had to find a way to make contact. Getting to his feet took ridiculous amounts of effort and he groaned and grunted from the pain and frustration. How did everything hurt so much? He looked across the space for a separate room, an office - anything really, but the floor was empty. An empty shell. Four bare walls. Brick walls painted white, he could make the colour out through the dim light. Paintwork was stained with damp and mould in places. The owners had clearly never used his space.

Anger and disappointment swelled in Boyd. He looked back to the stairs knowing he had to get back down, find another warehouse, find a phone, or at least a weapon to use in self defence should his captors find him. As his mind processed the different thoughts a sudden wave of pain hit him. He collapsed to the floor, arms clutching his stomach as he rolled over and began to vomit. The effort brought tears to his eyes. Was it blood? He couldn't be sure. Realisation hit him - he wasn't going back down those stairs, never mind to search another unit. He couldn't even hold up his own weight. Feeling desperate Boyd crawled towards the corner of the room, clawing his way along the floor. Reaching his destination he huddled between the two walls, held his arms around himself, ignoring the jolts it sent through one arm, trying his almighty best to hug away the pain.

This is it, he thought to himself, this had to be the end. The end of the case, the end of him. He could taste vomit and blood in his mouth. His vision dimmed and his head pulsed agonisingly from the hit he had taken from the baton. As he began to lose consciousness his sons image suddenly flittered through his mind. Had his son experienced this pain, when ready for a fix? Did he die in a room as empty, as depressing as this? Did he die alone, so alone, as Boyd now feared he was too? Did his son feel the same alarming fear that his father now was experiencing, fear that this was the end, and their was nothing he could do to prevent it? The thoughts swirled into black as Boyd finally lost consciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

-1

*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*

Chapter 5.

Grace waited in the deserted office alone. A cup of tea sat on her desk, Eve had insisted on making her one before she left with the others. A cup of tea! Like that was going to make her feel any better. Like that would take away the images in her mind, the pictures of Boyd, being beaten, being hurt, and now alone. Alone with those men. What were they doing to him now? We're they still hurting him? Was Boyd still goading them? God, she hoped not.

She rubbed at her eyes tiredly, as though it would take the images away from her minds eye. She held her hands over her ears as though that could stop the sounds filtering through, the sounds of Boyd, reacting to the pain; the sound the baton made as it snapped against his body. But nothing took these mental images from her mind, she was consumed by them. She sat and rocked from side to side as the tea went cold, sick with worry and concern.

And it wasn't just the worry for Boyd that she was feeling, but for his team too, for they we're all putting themselves in danger. Spence had faced danger before, but he had come out worse for wear on more than one occasion, despite his experience. Sarah could take care of herself, Grace was certain. But what about Eve? She wasn't a police officer. She had no training in combat or attack.

Despite all of this to worry over, something else nagged at Grace. Boyd. Her worry. Her pain. For him. Was this the concern for a friend, as she had always assumed? Today it felt worse. It just felt - more. The feeling was stronger. Stronger than friendship? For the first time in the many years she had worked beside him, Grace asked herself if she was in love with Peter Boyd. Their was no clear answer. Grace knew she couldn't think about this now, not rationally, not with all of the other issues and worries fighting for attention in her head.

She picked up her phone once more, selected the warning video she had been sent, and watched. Watching the men hurt Boyd repeatedly wasn't healthy, Grace knew, but she was unable to stop herself. It was the only way she could focus on the matter at hand; Boyd, Spence, Eve and Sarah's safety, and then the completion of the case. Her relationship with Boyd, well, that analysis would have to wait until later.

*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*

Eve jumped as she heard Sarah's voice come in through Spencer's phone. "I'm in my unit. I haven't searched it yet, but from the upper floor I have a clear view of the suspects. They are searching the grounds, looks like they're covering the place where they held Boyd. I'm guessing they're searching as they cover their tracks."

"They've got twenty minutes tops," Spencer said, checking his watch, "before they need to be at the meeting point."

"Well, my guess is Boyd's in one of these two buildings. He can't have gotten far, in that condition, can he?"

Eve cut in. "We don't even know that he escaped."

"No," Sarah said, remaining calm. "But I've watched these men for over five minutes, their is no sign of Boyd. They're searching for something. They look worried. What else could it be?"

"Okay." Spence announced, his voice rich with authority, "we've reached our unit. Do a full sweep, as fast but accurate as you can. Let's just hope we find him here."

"Out."

Eve looked over at the rotting wooden door, around the back of the building. The front entrance consisted of metal roller shutter doors. Their was no way through them, and Spence didn't want to break a window, it could alert the men to their positions. But the wooden panel door, Eve noticed, was not locked. In fact, though it had been pushed too, the hinge had been smashed clear off. She pictured Boyd charging through it, anger and desperation fuelling him. She motioned to Spence, who nodded and gently pushed it open. They were in.

*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*

The couple headed into the empty warehouse, taking careful steps through the darkness. Eve held her flashlight up to Spence, questioning him, knowing this kind of work was his expertise, not hers. He squinted at the object and nodded his head. Eve turned it on and held it down, illuminating their steps. After a minute or two Spencer motioned for her to sweep it around the room in an arc. After getting his weapon ready, held steady between two hands, pointing outwards to the room, Eve obeyed, giving them a clear look at what the room held.

Nothing.

"What are they, broken conveyer belts?" Eve whispered. Spencer just shrugged. He could see an old and abandoned staircase to the far side of the room.

"This place has been abandoned," Spence said, dejectedly. "There's nothing here."

"But the door-"

"Could be coincidence. I'll take a quick look upstairs, then we'll call Sarah and move on."

Eve nodded and followed Spencer towards the stairs, still using the torch beam to highlight the floor. She stopped suddenly and crouched down. "Spence," she warned. Her voice was a whisper. She held her finger up at him but he couldn't see anything through the darkness. "It's blood," she explained, motioning to the floor. "Fresh blood."

"Boyd's blood?"

"I don't know," she whispered, "but it leaves a path. Look…"

Together they followed the blood splatters to the staircase. On the steps the patches we're more spread out, but their was more blood in each place.

"Wait here," Spencer ordered. "Have your gun ready."

"I'm coming up!" Eve protested.

"After I check its safe. Eve, please."

Eve stared at him, saw the look on his face, in his eyes - a mixture of concern and trust. "Okay," she nodded.

Spence touched her arm gently, then began to climb the stairs. Slowly. Quietly. Carefully. Gun ready. Eve watched with baited breath.

*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*

Spencer reached the top step and braced himself. He could find himself facing an enemy, an ambush, or worse - Boyd. The blood worried him. The video told them that his boss would be in bad shape, but seeing the blood, following the splattered trial, it made it real, it made it worse. Steadying his aim Spencer stepped up onto the upper floor. He looked across the room, left to right. The room was empty. The white paint of the walls made the air a little brighter than the stifling darkness of the lower level. In the far corner Spencer noticed a shadow, an object, something in the corner, on the floor. "Eve?" He yelled, panic in his voice. He noticed the blood again, smeared on the floor, leading a trail. Boyd. It had to be Boyd.

He yelled for Eve again as he ran across the room, dropping to his knees as he reached the body. It was him. Boyd. Was he alive? Spence gently rolled the body onto its back as Eve joined him.

"Don't touch him," she instructed. "You could make his injuries worse."

Spence scoffed as he felt for a pulse. "I can hardly cause any more damage," he snapped.

"Let me look," she said, pushing him away.

"I think there's a pulse," Spence said. Eve checked and nodded. "Oh Boyd," she whispered.

Spence contacted Sarah. "We've got him," he began, "he's alive. But he's in a state."

"Boyd?" Sarah cut in, "you've found him?"

"Yes," Spence paused. "But I don't know what to do?"

Eve looked up at him. "We call for an ambulance, get a police team here-"

"That could be dangerous," Sarah warned, her voice echoing around the warehouse through the phone. "What if they sent bent coppers?"

"It's a risk we have to take," Eve snapped, still rummaging through her backpack. She found sterile gloves in the first air kit and snapped them on. Gently she probed at the large gash on the side of Boyd's head, sure this wound was the most serious, as head injuries often we're.

"It would be easier if we could get him out ourselves," Spencer admitted

"No," Eve cut in, "no! We're calling the police. Bring them in. Those men out their might have left evidence. We have the video, the message, Boyd. We bring this all out. We still have our evidence. We can't risk waiting. Look at him," Eve snapped, anger and adrenalin making her raise her voice, "we can't carry him. He can't walk. Spence, he needs serious attention, fast. His pulse is weak and he's lost blood. Not to mention that the men who did this are only a five minutes bloody stroll away from finding us! Then what? Then what!"

Spence nodded to pacify her. Sarah was silent on the phone. Spence checked his watch again. "They're going to be heading to the far unit for the meet any time. Let's bring the police in. We can lead them right to the crew who did this. And get Boyd out safely."

"Got it," Sarah said meekly. "You get an ambulance here, I'll get the Serious Crime Team here, give them their location. I'll find you," she muttered as she cut off.

"Spence," Eve snapped, "ambulance, now." She finished placing a thick gauze pad to the wound on Boyd's head, then looked down at his other injuries with disdain. "I don't know what to do. He needs a hospital. I can't treat anything, he needs to be in a clean and sterile environment."

"I'm on it," Spence said as he worked with his phone, walking away to the other side of the floor to make his call. Eve looked down at Boyd. She wanted to wake him, knowing it would be safer than leaving him unconscious. But she couldn't make herself do it. Didn't want to bring him back to the pain, not until he was in a hospital at least, safe, being treated.

She sighed as she studied him. He looked so… strange. His shirt was un-tucked. Eve smiled to herself as she realised that she had never seen him with his shirt un-tucked in all of the years they had worked together. His face was bloodied, bruised and battered. She knew their were other wounds beneath his clothes. She gently rested a hand on his arm and rubbed is softly. "It's okay," she whispered, "we're here. We're with you. You're safe. And we didn't make the trade." Despite his unconscious state she hoped her words offered him comfort.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6. 

After showing their identifications to Spencer who checked them thoroughly, the team of paramedics were led to Boyd. Police were already at the area, apprehending the suspects and securing the units involved. The scene was chaotic as the medics were taken through the warehouse and up the rickety stairs to an abandoned floor which was empty except for two people huddled over in the far area of the room; one clearly the injured male, the other a woman, wearing sterile gloves, holding a wad of gauze against a wound to the man's head whilst talking to him reassuringly.

"Eve," Spencer called, getting her attention, "they're here." She reluctantly moved away from her boss as the four men clad in green uniforms approached the victim.

The first man immediately checked for a pulse and began balking orders at his team members who acted quickly and efficiently. Most of the medical lingo was foreign to Spence who watched with awe at how effectively they worked.

"Peter Boyd?" The team leader called, as the other two men set up a stretcher, the third opening medical cases and helping to prepare the equipment they needed to transfer the man to the ambulance. "My name is Dave Johnson, I'm a paramedic here to help you. Me and my colleagues are going to move you to an ambulance, which will take you to hospital. You're in good hands."

The stretcher was already ready, laid out on the floor. The leader moved back as another man carefully fitted a neck brace onto the victim as a precaution. Spence looked questioningly at Eve. "Why're they talking to Boyd? He obviously can't hear them."

Eve sighed. "They have to identify themselves, before they can begin."

"What's with the neck thing?"

"It's a precaution. Just in case."

Spence nodded. He watched as together the four men lifted Boyd onto the stretcher, the movement taking only seconds. Two men strapped his body to the board as another fitted an oxygen mask over his face. Spence felt dread and worry filter back through him, as it had when they first received the video. Boyd was in bad shape. During all of this, he had given no signs of consciousness. Eve tried to reassure him it was natural, his body was shutting down to protect itself, but Spencer wasn't convinced. They followed the team as they hurried to the ambulance, two men carrying the stretcher, one at each end, the other two throwing more medical terminology that was foreign to Spencer back and forth between each other. After slowly navigating the stairs the men picked up the pace and they suddenly seemed to be loading the stretcher into the ambulance. Eve checked her watch, they had arrived barely five minutes ago. Spence looked at the scene, back up had arrived, as had SWAT and other specialist tactical units. It was chaos. As the paramedics secured the stretcher to a gurney in the ambulance Spencer grabbed Eve's arm.

"I'm going with him."

"Spence," Eve sighed, "things would be easier if you stayed?"

"I know that," he shrugged, "I'm not leaving him." He paused for a moment, before adding, "he could still be in danger."

"You've already got an armed team waiting for him at the hospital."

"I'm not leaving him, alright!" he shouted. "You stay here, help, whatever, I'm going. I'm not leaving him. Sarah can co-ordinate the scene. She has more experience in these matters."

Eve nodded. "Stay in touch," she warned, before heading back into the warehouse.

Spence climbed into the ambulance. The paramedics said nothing. Two climbed into the front, two men stayed in the back. Spence watched quietly as a monitor and a drip were connected to Boyd, before the two heavy metal doors of the ambulance were closed.

The team leader nodded to Spence. "We're going to check him over here, are you okay with that?"

Spence nodded his head. "Of course. Please, do what ever you need. Just help him."

The ambulance sirens wailed, and they set off.

*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*

Grace arrived at the hospital first. After harassing a young, uninterested and uninformed receptionist she noticed half a dozen police men enter the A&E area and headed directly for them. She showed the officer in charge her home office warrant card and asked if they were here for Peter Boyd. The young man explained that the DSI was five minutes away from the hospital and they were here to guard and protect him as soon as he arrived.

Officer King kindly asked her to wait in the café, suggesting he collect her once they were settled. Grace made it clear that she would wait with them until Boyd arrived and once he did she would leave him only when a medical doctor suggested otherwise. "I'm not just his colleague, and friend, Officer, but I'm also his next of kin." Grace spoke the words with a steeliness that made Officer King realise that he was wasting his time, and so he ordered one of his men to get Dr Foley an access pass ready. Grace nodded her thanks, folded her arms and stared at the entrance doors eagerly, jumping with anxiety each time an ambulance siren wailed through the parking area.

*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*

The ambulance arrived. Grace knew instantly, she saw the way the police officers changed, became more alert, began almost subconsciously edging their way closer and closer to the doors. As soon as the ambulance stopped and the doors opened, a team of doctors or nurses or both seemed to arrive also. The realisation suddenly hit Grace, just how bad this was. How often did medical staff wait for you? In all of Grace's hospital trips it was the other way around, you waiting endlessly for your turn. This really was an emergency and this was Boyd. The thought hit her like a punch to the gut, Grace found herself crossing her arms against herself tightly as the gurney rushed into the room, Spencer trailing behind it, looking lost, looking worried, looking ill himself.

Grace watched the men move Boyd in a haze. The paramedics pushed the gurney whilst the doctors moved in to take over. Updates and information was thrown back and forth in short hand between the two teams. Then suddenly the paramedics were gone and the new team were rushing away from the casualty entrance and towards the maze of corridors. Only then did Grace realise she was running behind them, desperate to see Boyd, to let him know she was their.

"Wait, wait!" She called after the gurney. The team carried on, but a young female nurse broke off from the group and stopped to meet Grace. As she did so, Grace finally caught a glimpse of Boyd. Time seemed to stop. He looked so… bad. His shirt was open, leads and drips seemed to be everywhere, blood was present but what scared Grace the most was how still he was. Almost lifeless. And how small he looked, in relation to the team that hovered over him, and the technology attached to him. He seemed almost… insignificant. Grace felt tears well to her eyes once more.

"I'm sorry Miss, but you can't come with us. We're going into surgery-"

"Surgery? Why? What's wrong-"

"I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to give-"

Spencer was suddenly at her side. "It's okay, nurse. Get back to them. I'll fill Dr Foley in. She's with us," he added, as an afterthought, making it clear that she remain informed. "The guards will wait outside of theatre, and once Boyd's transferred anywhere else, they will continue to guard him, wherever that may be." He saw the nurse begin to protest and cut her off. "They will remain outside his room," he said, hand raised, "but they need to be close. His life is in danger."

The nurse nodded, then hurried back to catch the team up. They turned a corner and suddenly the gurney was out of sight. Grace automatically put a foot forward, ready to follow, but Spencer gently held her arm, preventing her from doing so. "Come on Grace," he said, his voice now empty of the authority it held as he had spoken to the nurse, "let's sit down. Get a coffee. I'll fill you in. There's nothing we can do for him now."

Grace reluctantly nodded, gently clung to Spencer's arm as she allowed him to lead her away.

*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*

Fifteen minutes passed. Spencer stared at the wall, clenching his jaw and rubbing tiredly at his face. Grace watched him, wanting to give him the time he needed before informing her of what had happened. But she could wait no longer, the anxiety and tension building within her.

"What happened in the ambulance Spence?" she gently probed.

Spencer shook his head gently. "I don't know. One minute they were checking him, the next they were panicking. I didn't really understand most of what they were saying, but something was wrong. They told me he had internal bleeding, that's why he was rushed into surgery. But despite that, he's still a mess. They really hurt him." Spence sighed, rubbed a hand over his face again, now wanting to hurt Grace but not wanting to lie to her either. He just shook his head, saying nothing more.

Grace needed information. "One minute, Spence, you're going to trade the case for Boyd. The next thing I know, police teams are there, the case is still ours, and Boyd's here. What have I missed? Did you decide not to make the trade?"

Spence's head snapped up. "No! Of course not! I wouldn't risk his life-"

"I didn't meant it like that Spence," Grace cut in, trying to calm him, "I just, don't understand how we got here."

"We we're going to do the swap. When we got there, something was wrong. The men who had him, they we looking for something. We could see that they were searching, and we couldn't see Boyd anywhere, from our vantage point. We thought maybe he had escaped? Turns out he had. We found him, before the men did. Called in back up. Called in the medics. Now we're here."

Grace nodded. Spence felt guilt rise up. "But," he added, guiltily, "when we found him. I wanted to wait. To make sure the hostiles were arrested, caught, before getting Boyd any help. Eve went crazy," he gave a shaky laugh, "she made me call in the medics sooner."

"Oh Spence."

"I know. I just wanted to make sure the men who did this got caught. But if we hadn't got Boyd here as soon as we did, he would have probably died. He looked so bad, Grace. Covered in blood. His face was really messed up, cut, and really swollen, but I was going to wait. Even his clothes were all ripped, wet with blood in places."

"Don't say it Spence. Don't think it. You got him here, alive. You found him! If you hadn't, he certainly would be dead by now."

Spence nodded his head. "Thanks," he whispered.

"How did he manage to escape? After what they did to him?" Grace was incredulous.

"I don't know. We found him in a warehouse place, empty. Not far from where they held him, really. I don't know how he got away initially. We we're searching the unit, Eve noticed blood, splatters and smudges of blood on the floor. We followed it. It led to a staircase, and, at the top," Spence's voice caught in his throat, "their was more of it, smeared all the way to him, as though, he'd literally dragged himself over the floor. He was laid in the corner, like he was trying to hide. He's been vomiting blood too, Eve noticed it. He didn't wake up once, the entire time, when we got to him, when the paramedics took him, I don't know if that means something's-"

"That could be from the trauma," Grace cut in, trying to ease his mind, "that might not be a bad thing."

Spence shook his head. "Well, either way, he's suffered though enough of a beating to give him internal injuries…"

"He's in the best place now," Grace whispered, "but my God, he's getting too old to be hurt like this."

"I know," Spence muttered.

Grace glanced at her watch. Only thirty minutes had passed. She watched Spence, struggling to keep his eyes open, clearly coming down from the adrenalin rush of finding and rescuing Boyd.

"Close you eyes, Spence, I'll wake you when we get some news."

Spence shook his head but his eyes still closed. Grace held his hand, drew patterns on it with her thumb, the movement comforting her as Spence dropped off, his breathing becoming heavier, slower, as he rested.

"Oh Boyd," Grace whispered to herself, "please be okay. I love you too much to lose you."

* * *

><p><em>Nearly finished! One, maybe two chapters left, please let me know if you're still reading! Thank you!<em>


	7. Chapter 7

Spence watched over Grace as she slept. He had drifted off earlier and now it was her turn. It had been four hours since they arrived. Four hours! Boyd was still holding on but the time lapse alone gave Spencer negative thoughts. How badly hurt was he, if it took them this long to fix him? A nurse had visited them an hour ago, in the private waiting room, to give them an update. Spence had requested a private room stating his need to work the case from here, but he had done nothing, other than sit and wait with Grace. The nurse had informed them that DSI Boyd was alive. They had stopped and repaired the source of internal bleeding and were moving onto his punctured lung. They hadn't even known about this injury at that point in time. The explained the wheezing, croaking sound he had been making when they found him, Spence thought. Grace had paled and Spence sighed, taking her hand in his and squeezing it slightly as a gesture of comfort. Since then, no more updates from the nurse. At least, Spence thought as images twisted and twirled through his mind, at least this meant he hadn't died. That was good.

Grace was slouched in her chair. Spence couldn't help but watch her. He wanted to protect her, to help her. He could see the way this situation had affected her. She was vulnerable. Drained. Suddenly, she seemed old. Fragile even. Spence vowed to do all he could to be their to support her, and Boyd, too, if he pulled through.

*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*

Hours later and Eve was still working the scene. The Commissioner had actually visited the area and Eve was still in shock of this alone. He had arrived to view the scene of the crime personally, after a hasty phone call from Sarah, and given the team complete authority to use whatever means necessary to complete the case and bring the conspirators to justice. His presence reassured Eve, is showed her that he was going to support them and help them to bring these people down.

"I mean," the Commissioner clucked, "to abduct and assault one of my DSI's? The absolute cheek of it!" The man was clearly furious. "These men will be dealt with most severely, I shall make sure of that."

"Thank you sir." Eve was relieved of his support, having half expected him to come in guns blazing, aimed at the Cold Case Team for failing to inform their supervisors when this whole thing began. But their decision was, it seemed, understood and respected by the Commissioner, who was on their side.

Eve couldn't stop thinking about earlier. Finding Boyd, waiting for back up.

The tactical team had arrived before the paramedics. Eve had remained huddled by Boyd during the wait, checking his pulse, breathing patterns and temperature, softly speaking to him, though he hadn't stirred once during that time. Spencer had remained by the warehouse doors, joined by Sarah, ready to attack, or defend their position, should they encounter the hostiles before the back up units arrived. Sarah's counter terrorist connections were good and three fully armed units had arrived quickly and arrested most of Boyd's kidnappers. They had been taken to the counter terrorist headquarters for interrogation, given that this was their field of expertise. Two men had been shot whilst resisting, one killed, the other injured only.

Eve wiped the sweat from her brow. The forensic team had erected lighting to illuminate the scene to help them work through the night. She had chosen to process the warehouse first, looking for evidence of Boyd's capture, knowing they would have destroyed most of it, if not all. So far they had found traces of blood which DNA testing would later prove to be Boyd's. One of the captured suspects had a fresh facial wound and Eve ordered a DNA swab to be taken immediately, hoping it would connect the man to Boyd. All of their phones had been sent to the lab for analysis and Eve was confident they could trace the picture and video message back to one of them. She had the team search the area for the baton that was used as a weapon against Boyd in the video, knowing that it could be an instrumental piece of evidence in their case, but so far it hadn't turned up.

But now it was time to process the second site; the factory warehouse where they had found Boyd. Eve was surprised to find herself feeling nervous as she approached the building. Police tape cordoned off the area and Sarah lifted it as Eve ducked beneath.

"You okay?" Sarah asked, picking up on Eve's discomfort. "There are plenty of others who could process the scene, you know?"

"No, its fine." Eve slowed as she approached the door and waited for a photographer to finish taking pictures of the damaged door joint before she entered through it.

"You've been through a lot," Sarah mumbled, "maybe this is too much?"

"No!" Eve snapped with disgust. "This is my scene and I will process it. I owe that much to Boyd, don't you think? I'm not going to miss anything."

Sarah just nodded. "Has Spence called yet?"

"Not since earlier."

"Okay," Sarah smiled. "I'm going to get back, they've got me co-ordinating between the terrorist guys and our team. Trying to keep things going smoothly, making sure both units get everything they need."

Eve just nodded and began her work. Sarah watched for a moment, then left to continue with her own. It was going to be a long night.

*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*

"DI Jordan?" A young nurse timidly asked, pushing a lock of hair behind her hair as she did so.

Spence sat up immediately, offering her hand and a smile. "Spencer, please."

"Um, Spencer. And Dr Foley?" Grace nodded, unable to offer a smile, blearily rubbing sleep from her eyes as she stretched in the chair before focusing her attention on the young woman, her hands pressed together between her knees, ready for the update, subconsciously preparing herself for the worst.

"Please, tell us how he is?" Grace asked. The young girl nodded before consulting her clipboard.

"Mr Boyd has been moved to our Intensive Care unit. He had pulled through surgery but still in critical condition. We repaired the internal breathing and reconstructed his punctured lung, but he's still on a ventilator until the lung is strong enough to work alone."

Grace smiled, cutting in, "that's good then, isn't it?"

The young nurse frowned. "I'm afraid, whilst we were pleased with the patients surgery results, he's still struggling with a lot of other injuries. He's suffered a serious head injury, and our tests show he's got a fractured skull. That in turn has generated swelling in an area on the brain. He's heavily sedated at the moment, in an almost coma like state, until he wakes up we can't be certain if he has sustained any form of brain damage."

Grace gasped, feeling tears well in her eyes. Spence patted her leg before turning his attention back to his nurse. "But you don't know, either way. He could have, but it might be fine?"

The nurse nodded, relieved. "Exactly. Whilst Mr Boyd may be fine, in terms of his head injury, we just don't know. The brain is a very sensitive area, in regards to this injury, we can only wait."

Grace cleared her throat, trying to cling to the fact that he could be okay. "Anything else?" she asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

The nurse looked down at her clipboard again, hesitating.

"We will need a copy of all of these medical findings, and the report on his condition, for our investigation," Spencer said, not giving her time to think. "If its easier we can just wait for those."

"Oh no," the girl said, embarrassed. "His other wounds are all reported. Mr Boyd was clearly beaten very badly, but his injuries should all heal over time."

"And they are?" Spencer prodded.

"Cuts and bruises," the girl sighed. "Broken cheekbone, which looks repairable. Fractured arm, but Dr Holmes wants to cast that up later, its not priority. Some broken ribs, one which resulted in the punctured lung. They've been strapped and again, only time can heal. Really, all minor problems in relation to his head injury and lung."

"How long will his lung need, to repair itself-"

"It's hard to tell. We usually wait 48 hours minimum. Then we'll take him off the ventilator, see how he reacts. Either the lung will hold, or we'll have to re-ventilate. In this patients case, Dr. Holmes may choose to wait longer, until we know how bad the swelling on his brain is."

"So all we can do is wait?"

"Exactly."

The nurse turned to leave but Grace quickly called her back. "When can we see him?"

"I don't think that's a good-"

"I want to see him!"

"Well," the nurse hesitated again, "I'll ask Dr Holmes. Usually patients in IC are not permitted visitors. But given your… situation, I'll ask him, as a favour." She smiled at Spence as she finished, who rewarded her with a smile of her own. "Thank you, Nurse…" He squinted at the name tag, "Jones. I appreciate your understanding. Please… keep us updated."

"Of course."

Once alone Grace turned to Spence, her hands shaking as she spoke. "Brain damage, Spence? Brain damage?"

"I know," he said, dejectedly, "but we don't know if its that serious. We will just have to wait."

"Wait," Grace scoffed, "wait!"

"I know, but its all we can do."


	8. Chapter 8

_Sorry for the delay. I started a new job this week so it's all been a little manic!_

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><p><span>Chapter 8.<span>

The days were long and the nights longer. Grace was on compassionate leave. When she had no choice, she worked from Boyd's room, email her only contact with the unit on work related matters. For updates and visiting schedules, Grace would allow the occasional phone call. Spencer had to return to work eventually. Eve was never given the chance to leave, the demands of the crime scene, and the others that quickly followed, had to be met. Sarah was promoted to head of the unit, pending Boyd's return. Spencer was unhappy about this but continued to work to the best of is ability, knowing he had to, to keep the CCU floating. It was chaos. Unorganised chaos. Without Boyd, to both lead, and protect the unit, they were in a slow free fall into disbandment. Everybody knew it. Sarah wasn't prepared for the semi-promotion, was still struggling with leading people she knew were more qualified to lead, and the guilt over Boyd, her contact's involvement… it was hard. Difficult. Getting worse each day, not better, as the Commissioner had promised it would when making his proposal. What choice did she have? She and Spence were slogging their guts out, trying to keep things ticking over, wanting the unit ready and able for Boyd's return. If, for their was a lot of doubt now, he ever returned.

A week passed, Boyd's condition remained the same. Then a month. Eventually the ventilator was removed, the lung strong enough to hold its own, Boyd's inactivity allowing the organ to heal fully. But still Boyd did not wake. The internal issues, the punctured lung, the swelling of the brain, even, subsided, but still he did not wake. A coma, they said. He was in a coma. The doctors were positive at first, this was a good state, his body, and brain, could heal faster. But now they were no longer positive. Brain damage, they said, they could never rule out, until they could examine him in a conscious state. And now here they were, the doctors and professionals no longer concerned with the possible brain damage, Grace noticed, now the focus was on him, if he ever would wake up. "Coma" was suddenly interchangeable with "vegetative state," He was no longer a patient, in recovery, it seemed, but a shell, dormant, and Grace was beginning to accept that he would never wake up.

She saw by his bedside. Took private notes of his condition and appearance every day. She watched as the fractured cheekbone became more swollen, the stitches scabbing a deep, hideous red, then lightening, gently dissolving into nothing, eventually just a pale pink scar about an inch of length along his left cheekbone, beneath the eye, barely noticeable. Grace watched and waited as the bruises that battered his body, the hideous black, purple, blue shades scattered over his chest turned from dull patches to bright greens and yellow, which eventually faded, dimming like a light, until once more their was nothing. The strapping on his arm, Grace was their was it was turned into plaster as a cast, and then, weeks later, his arm lay free against the sheets, the bone fracture healed. Grace watched as everything healed, but Boyd himself, the soul inside the body, it appeared, had not.

The armed guards underwent a similar process. They guarded his room every moment, checking ID's and doing random bag checks, certain somebody was out to eliminate Boyd. As the trails and sentencing of the people involved in his abduction, his torture, and the conspiracy developed, the police stepped up security too, to deal with the press wanting access to the patient, a photo maybe, anything to top the content of rival networks and papers. But then the mayhem on this corridor died down, suddenly the team of guards dwindled to six men, then four, then one, and now, now the case was closed and complete, Grace was alone.

Grace was strong. She was rational. She understood the doctors medical terminology. And this, she believed, was a hindrance. Because that hope she had, that when he woke up, he would fully recover, had slowly been extinguished, like a long candle, slowly burning at the wick, until there is nothing left, and the flame flickers ever so slightly, until it is gone. Now Grace's hope was flickering, because she understood all too clearly what was happening, why Boyd was taking so long to "wake up", to "come round" - it was simple, she realised, he wasn't going too.

*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*

Spence picked Eve up and set off towards the restaurant Grace had asked them to meet her at. Usually they met her at the hospital so they we're both concerned about the change in routine, and why Grace wanted to see them. Eve tapped a cigarette from the box and smiled at Spence, raising her eyebrows, hopeful.

"Sure, just wind the window down, I don't want my wheels smelling of smoke."

Eve obeyed and lit up gratefully. "So," she said, after taking a deep pull. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Spence shrugged. "Something's up though."

Eve shook her head, thoughtfully. "Maybe its Boyd? Maybe he's making progress?"

"She'd have told us. Besides, I saw him yesterday. Same old. Still out of it." Eve remained silent, her attention focused on the cig, not wanting to comment. They drove the rest of the way in silence.

Grace greeted the pair with a tight hug and a kiss on both of the cheeks of each of them. After the welcome a waiter led them to a table and Grace ordered a bottle of wine. She smiled at them both and Eve couldn't help but notice the lines around her eyes; they we're more pronounced, deeper, making Grace look tired, fragile, and for the first time, truly old. Eve placed a hand on Graces and patted it gently. Grace smiled at the gesture and insisted Spence give her a hand to hold onto also, so they be joined together before she broke her news to her two friends.

"Thank you for coming. I know I haven't invited Sarah along, and whilst this may sound cruel, I just didn't want her here. She's been a great help, but you two, Boyd and I, well, we are friends, aren't we?, as well as a team?" Spence and Eve nodded earnestly. "I just didn't want anybody else involved in this."

"So," Spence said, trying to break the formalities, "what is this? What's wrong Grace?"

Grace sighed, unsure of where to start. "It's about Boyd." The two younger adults nodded their heads, willing her to continue. "I don't think," she paused, "he's going to wake up." Spence began to cut in with a flurry of panicked words, Grace held up a wrinkled hand, making him stop, then gently replaced it back over his own. "The doctors are past believing anything. It's been five months. Even if he did wake up, there is still no indication if he'll be able to function properly at all. But the point is, he won't wake up. As far as we know he is brain dead, in a comatose state." She hastily wiped at a tear that had escaped despite her efforts to hide it. "I don't want him to suffer. If he is awake, in his head, I don't want him trapped their, waiting forever. And if he defies all expectations and does come round, I don't want him to be some badly damaged that he can't operate as he always has." More tears escaped. "I think its time. I think its time to let him go, peacefully."

"You mean pull the plug?" Hostility shone through Spencer's voice. He removed his hand, distancing the contact between himself and Grace, and rubbed a hand over his chin, through his facial hair.

Eve decided it was her turn to speak. "Ultimately, it is your decision. It has been a long time, with no signs of any progress, or possibility of progress."

"Then we keep waiting!"

"No Spence. We can't wait forever. Grace can't wait forever."

Grace was surprised by how easily Eve was able to process all of this. "Do you two know," Grace said, wearily, "How long I have been waiting? It feels like forever. It wasn't until the case that hurt him, that I even realised it - or maybe, until I finally admitted to myself, that I've always been in love with him, always been waiting for him." A small sob escaped. "Now, now, I'm going to lose him, before I even have him, and it will be my decision, my fault." Grace began to cry again, and Spence moved around the table to envelope her in his arms, feeling guilty for his earlier outburst. He nodded to Eve to pay the bill, they we're disturbing the other diners. As Eve hurried away Spence whispered to Grace, "I'm sorry Grace, I understand. I agree. You know I'll support you, whatever happens." Eve returned and grabbed Grace's overfilled large brown leather bag, slinging it over her shoulder, trying not to wince at the weight of it. "Let's go somewhere private," Spence said, and Grace laughed, with real humour this time. "I booked the table because I thought I'd be able to keep it together in a public place. That really worked, didn't it!"

Spence and Eve laughed with her, through it sounded false. Spence kept his arm around Grace as he led her to the car, like an overprotective son, he didn't want to let go. He got into the back seat with her, throwing Eve his keys. Grace continued to cry during the journey, finally letting it all out, the pain she was feeling, that she had worked so hard to hide from everyone else, finally it was out, on display, and Grace was unashamed. After a few minutes she rubbed at her face with her sleeve in a poor attempt to dry her eyes. "Where are we going?" she asked. Spence shrugged. "To the hospital," Eve said, matter of factly, "making a decision like this, I still feel like, like he needs to be involved. Is that okay?"

Grace leant forwards to the drivers seat and patted Eve's shoulder. "Yes," she said. "That's okay."

*WTD*WTD*WTD*WTD*


	9. Chapter 9

_Apologies for the delay. Had a busy couple of weeks!_

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><p>They had been seated in Boyd's private hospital room for almost twenty minutes when Eve finally broke the silence. She had waited, watching Grace as she watched Boyd; and watching Spence, who was watching his shoes, the view from the window, anything and anywhere but his boss.<p>

"It's still strange," she sighed, "seeing him so… still. Not fidgeting. Not shuffling. No pacing. No shouting!"

Spencer smiled but studied the floor as he did so. Grace patted Boyd's cold hand, and said with a smile, "don't you listen to Eve." Finally feeling composed, she turned her attention to her two friends. "Right. I know this is difficult… believe me, its hard for me too." She cleared her throat, then began speaking in a factual manner. "I have spoken to several doctors and consultants. I've held meetings with all of Boyd's care team. They are almost certain he will be unable to function fully, if he should ever wake from his comatose state. I've been looking into organ donation… I think he would have wanted that, to help others, with the parts of him he no longer needs." Grace paused and gently wiped at a tear. Then she bravely continued. "I have been in touch with his ex wife Mary, and she, quite frankly, doesn't care what decision I make, as long as it doesn't involve her. I have reached a decision, I've decided that its best for him, and for me, for all of us, if we let him go. I want to use his organs, give others life through his death. I… I hope you can support me in my decision."

"Of course we will," Eve said gently. Spence finally spoke, still looking down at the floor.

"Why now, Grace? I understand everything, but why now? What's suddenly brought this on?"

Grace sighed again, folded her arms over her chest. Time to give them blow two, she thought, knowing it would be hard, but she had to be honest with them. "It's back."

"What is?" Spence asked, confused.

"The cancer. It's made a return."

"Oh…" Spence stuttered. "How long have you known? How severe is it? What's the plan, treatment wise? How are you going to-"

Grace held a hand up to silence his onslaught of questions. "I found out a few weeks ago."

"And you kept this to yourself? Grace! Why didn't you tell us. You can't carry this burden, on top of caring for Boyd!"

"It's okay Spence. I was just waiting, I wanted to be clear on my situation, and his," she nodded towards the bed, "before I made any decisions, or involved anyone else."

Spence watched Grace carefully, knowing something was wrong, something worse, she was still holding something back. But what, what could be worse than this, the cancer being back? "Grace," he whispered, "what aren't you telling us?"

"It's bad Spence," Grace ran a hand through her hair. "The cancer. This time, there is no treatment. Nothing feasible, anyway. I've decided I want to enjoy my time peacefully, rather than fight it, and spend my last months ill and sick. I'm not taking any treatment."

"Months?" Eve choked, stunned.

"The doctors estimate between three and six months."

Spence shook his head and selfishly began to rant. "So that's it, you give up and I lose you both?"

"Spence shut up!" Eve cut in, furious.

"I'm not giving in Spence. If I fight it, I might get an extra six months, but it will be six months I don't want, not with the pain, the sickness, I can't do that again Spence, not when I know their's no recovery. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry," Spence said, his hands shaking, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Tears began to flow, the first time in years, since Mel even, and he couldn't stop them. "You don't deserve this, Grace. It's not fair, it's not right…"

"I know its not," she sighed, moving over to him, rubbing his arm, "but it's out of my hands, and your hands, I've just got to deal with it, and I have."

Spence rubbed at his eyes, sniffed a few times, then moved over by the window, looking out into the darkness, his back to them, hiding his pain, his weakness, his emotions.

"So what now, Grace?" Eve asked.

Grace smiled at her, proud of her strength to keep moving forwards, stay rational, on track, focussed. "Now, I have to formally state my decision regarding Boyd. A doctor here, he's been very helpful, he can sort the paperwork out, once I make my request. I think, give it a week, and Boyd will be… be… gone." Once again, tears welled to her eyes. "I'm sorry," she explained, "I feel like I'm killing him, but it's no life, laid in a bed, dead to the world… and I can't-"

"You're right," Spence cut in. "Boyd deserves better than…this" he pointed to the room, to the bed, but still didn't look at the man hooked up to the equipment keeping him alive. "He's already dead. His body is just an empty shell. We need to turn him off to let him go, and grieve for him. He would agree, I know he would. Keeping him alive, it would be selfish, on our parts. I don't want to let him go, but I don't want him to suffer. And if he did ever wake up, then he really would suffer. We need to let him go. You're making the right decision Grace." He walked over to her, grabbed her in his strong arms, held her tightly, then kissed her gently on the cheek. "Thank you, for being brave enough, to make this decision. It's the right one. Thank you."

Grace began to cry in his arms, Spence welled up, but manage to hold back the tears. Eve's chair legs screeched against the floor as she got up to join them, joined in the hug, not a group hug, more of a squeeze, each of them holding on, clawing to each other in their pain, their grief, their need to be strong.

TWO WEEKS LATER.

"I think he would have liked the service."

Spence nearly spat some of his pint out. "Yeah," he said, laughing, "cos Boyd was so religious. At least it was short, he'd appreciate that."

"I think I'll get cremated," Eve mused, stirring her vodka with a straw. "Or maybe I'll donate my body to science? Seems fair, really, given all of the bodies I've had, waiting in the Farm."

Spence laughed again. "Well I'm not donating nothing, it's all coming with me, inside my luxury coffin. When I'm gone, I want to be cosy."

Grace smiled, watching the two. The three had arranged to visit the pub the team used to visit regularly on a Friday afternoon after a successful day at CCU.

"To be fair," Grace cut in, "I don't think Boyd would give a damn what we did with him, now he's gone. But I'm glad he's with his son, I hope he gets some peace in that. Finally they're reunited, Luke can't run away anymore."

Spence nodded his head in agreement. Eve smiled. "You're right," she said. "they're together. I can't think of anything more fitting."

Grace decided now was the time to tell them. They had agreed, during the ordeal, that, given the tragedy and suffering of his death, they would laugh, drink and be merry for the funeral. Celebrate the man, through mourning, rather than wallow in misery. It had worked, Spence was dealing with the loss well and Eve was as strong as ever. "I have a confession to make," Grace cut in, getting their attention. "I've picked out my plot."

Spence put down his pint. He didn't want to think about the fact that, by the end of the year, maybe sooner, Grace too would be gone. He wanted to enjoy the time he had with her, but understood that she wanted to plan her end as she wanted it, with their involvement. "You owe me a fiver Grace," he said, forcing a smile, "I bet on ashes."

"Spence!" Eve cut in, "we did not place a bet on this!"

"I'm only kidding Grace," he said, taking another gulp of his lager. Grace smiled, pleased with his attempt to lighten the mood despite the sad times. "I'm going next to Boyd."

Eve smiled. "I'm glad. I can think of no better place."

Spence nodded. "If that is what you want."

"I want it no other way." Grace smiled, it highlighted her recent weight loss, the lines on her face seemed more defined. "And this way I can still keep an eye on him, try keep him out of trouble…" They all laughed. It was hard, laughing, in the circumstances, but when Spence and Eve looked back, in many years to come, it was the attempt to be positive, to be happy, that made the memories of Grace, and Boyd, the two they lost, all the more special.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading!<em>


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